


A Soldier and A Wicked Man

by Tenebrosa



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Temporary Character Death, Vampire Bites, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 12:23:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12457725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tenebrosa/pseuds/Tenebrosa
Summary: No matter the time, no matter the universe, Jack and Gabriel are intrinsically linked. It begs the question as to whether even death could separate the two.





	A Soldier and A Wicked Man

**Author's Note:**

> Content spoilers: Jack dies a little. He gets better though. Not explicit in the death but do read with care.

“Still a foolhardy man.”

Jack shoots upright in bed at the growled voice, fingers twitching towards his gun even as his eyes lock on the shadows in the far corner of his borrowed room. He doesn’t pick it up, just rests his hand on it, his free hand clenching up the covers.

Better to throw them off and move quickly if need be.

“I killed you.”

“Oh, did you think it would be so easy?” The Reaper emerges from the shadows, as much he can, cloaked in them like a second set of clothes. “Foolish soldier. I’m not so easily banished.”

“Take off your mask.” Jack demands.

The Reaper cocks his head, fingers coming up to brush the bottom of the bone white mask, one tip brushing the length of a false fang. 

“Why.”

“You’re not here to kill me. If you were, you would have done it already.” Jack takes his hand away from the gun, even as he throws the covers off his form. “So stop playing games with me. Take off. The. Mask.”

The laugh that tumbles from The Reaper’s throat isn’t close to amused or lighthearted. It’s a harbinger. The last sound many have probably heard before their throats were torn open or their bodies riddled with buckshot. Jack feels shivers crawl down his spine at the sound but he keeps his gaze steady, his body still and coiled. 

One broad hand spans the length of the mask and Jack braces himself for what is to come when it’s pulled away. No one knows what The Reaper looks like. It’s rumored anyone who has gazed upon his countenance has soon found themselves unable to tell a soul about their experience.

Death _is_ the ultimate silencer, after all.

The gasp dies in his throat, as does his breath, when the mask is carelessly dropped to the floor.

“Gabriel.”

“Surprised?” Gabriel Reyes, his friend, a once righteous soldier he was glad to have at his back, grins as he steps ever closer. “I certainly was. I thought I’d be more...monstrous. As it turns out, immortality has it’s perks.”

His voice is different, rough like metal over cobblestone, but there’s just a hint of the voice Jack once heard call commands over the battlefield. But his face...his face is nearly the same. The red eyes and fangs aside, he’s the spitting image of the man Jack once knew.

A righteous man’s face with the blood of an abomination in his veins.

“How?”

“I’m not here to answer questions.” Gabriel keeps coming closer, though he freezes when Jack reaches for his gun once more, voice turning into a raw purr. “Come now, Jack. Death didn’t take the first time. What makes you think it’ll work now?”

“What do you want from me?”

“You stayed the night in this castle. You accepted the invitation when the archer and the gunslinger were smart enough to take their rest in the tavern.” 

Jack swallows thickly at the words--how long have they been watched without knowing?

“What does that matter?”

“Why did you stay, Jack?” Gabriel stops advancing when his thighs brush the bed, one claw tipped finger catching under his chin and tilting it upwards. “What were you hoping to find on this cursed night?”

He doesn’t answer. Can’t, even if he wanted to. Even if the pressure on his throat didn’t threaten to puncture skin the moment he open his jaws, Jack would have no words to offer.

In truth, he wanted answers. Wanted a way to find the Witch of the Wilds. Demand to know what she’d done to his former ally. 

He hadn’t expected the answers to tumble from the mouth of _The Reaper_ , but Jack is too old and too desperate to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“You.” True enough, the moment he speaks he feels a sharp pain under his chin, the itch of blood starting a slow trail down his throat. “I was hoping to find...you.”

Gabriel’s eyes dart down, lock onto Jack’s throat, and his tongue flickers out to wet his lips, baring one sharp fang. Jack feels like it’s a standoff, both of their fingers twitchy on the triggers, ready for any outcome so long as it ends it. 

He takes the initiative. Does something foolish and tips his head backwards, baring his throat and the blood on it to the man nightmares are made of. 

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Soldier.” Gabriel’s voice is impossibly rougher, but the words come out in a hushed whisper, the quietest he’s been this entire night. 

“I’m too old for games,” Jack sighs, staring at the ceiling of the castle room before his eyes flutter shut. “I’m too old for...any of this shit, Gabe. Whatever you plan to do--I won’t stop you.”

There’s a snarl that precedes a vicious crack of lightning outside, throwing light and shadows through the window, and Jack almost misses the way Gabriel leans down over him. He _doesn’t_ miss the long stroke of a tongue over his throat, along the path of the blood, clearing it from his skin with one smooth movement. 

His hand raises, almost without thinking, clutching Gabe’s jacket even as the hand once on his chin makes contact with his shoulder, roughly shoving him onto his back. Jack grunts when weight settles across his lap, free hand falling to one thick thigh, fingers digging in as he looks up. 

Gabriel’s licking over his lips, a hellfire in his eyes as he looks down, fangs peeking onto his lower lip like they’ve somehow extended. 

“Souls aren’t the only thing I devour, Jack.” Gabe purrs, running one claw down the length of his chest, nearly tearing through the thin material of his nightshirt. “Are you so ready for death that you welcome its embrace?”

“Anything you need.” Jack feels desperate, feels like he’s going to shake out of his skin and like he’s coiled too tightly to breathe all in the same moment. “I want you to--anything you need from me. I’ll give it to you.”

Another snarl, this time like the cry of a wounded and vicious predator caught in a trap, before Gabriel darts forwards. Jack lets out a cry when fangs sink deep into his neck, burning and painful, clawing at Gabriel’s shoulders as his body starts to convulse. His vision dims in spurts, like a flickering candle trying to withstand the winds, and Jack groans when, amazingly, he feels himself grow hard under Gabe’s weight. 

He hasn’t felt this way with someone else in so long. He’d almost forgotten how good the weight of another person atop his cock could feel. 

Gabriel leans back with a wet sucking noise, nothing like the soft nursing sounds when he was attached to Jack’s neck, and he scrambles to hold onto his waist. His eyes refuse to cooperate for a long moment, blurry and unfocused, but when they finally do, Jack lets a small moan slip at the view.

Blood coats Gabe’s chin, like he’s a sloppy drinker, and he’s swaying in place, red gaze somehow softer and as unfocused as Jack’s own. He looks _drunk_ and Jack realizes with a jolt that Gabe’s hard too, cock tenting the front of his pants underneath the belts. 

“Is this what does it for a dead man?” Jack croaks, feeling weak, the hot spill of blood down the side of his throat so fast he should be alarmed by it. 

He’s not. He wasn’t lying when he said he was too old for any of this. Death at the hands of an old friend, at the mercy of a man he thought he could’ve grown to love in another life…

Fitting end, for one such as he. 

“Don’t ruin the moment with your voice.” Gabe growls, moving then, clumsily like he doesn't have his bearings. 

He slips down between Jack’s thighs, shoving them wide with the breadth of his shoulders, and easily shreds the underwear Jack’s wearing with his claws. Jack tenses, a bit, at the sharpness so close to his cock, and doesn’t miss the grin when Gabriel feels him twitch. 

“Don’t worry, Jack. I’ve no intention of ridding you of such a...delicious specimen.” Gabe, true to his word, is careful when he wraps a hand around his cock. 

Jack can’t help but buck his hips up into the hold, feeling untethered and almost like he’s floating as Gabe licks a wet stripe over the head. It’s been too long for him to hold back and Jack’s nails scramble at closely cut hair when Gabe’s mouth sinks down around him. It’s tight, hot, _perfect_ , and it drags a deep moan from his throat that echoes in the room. 

“Did you know I can smell your blood, even here?” Gabriel licks a long line up the length of him, like Jack would somehow misunderstand what he meant.

“Sure it’s not just--ah, oh gods--not just from your chin? You’re sloppy.”

Gabriel growls, hand pumping as he sucks tightly around the head, almost like it’s a punishment. Jack whines, legs restless on the bed as he tries to hold back. He’s not some untrained youth, he shouldn’t be so close to oblivion so quickly.

But how many times has he thought of this very moment? Gabriel between his legs, mouth sliding silky wet and hot over his cock, working him over like it’s his only occupation.

“I’m going to--”

“Perfect.” Gabriel purrs, hand still pumping as Jack’s vision starts to ring in black. “Come for me, Jack. Succumb to me.”

It’s the final lingering stroke of a tongue that does him in. Drags rough over the head of his cock, lapping up his pre-come, and Jack is arching into Gabriel’s mouth as he shouts wordlessly. He shakes through it, coming apart almost violently when Gabriel seals his mouth over the tip and sucks like he intends to prove Jack’s ‘sloppy’ comment wrong. 

The world is dimming as he sinks back into the bed, panting, breaths coming shorter and shorter as all the muscles in his body go weak. He’s distantly aware of the way the sheets and pillow under his head are soaking wet, sopping with what he assumes must be his own blood.

“You’re fading, Soldier.” Gabriel looms over him, hovering, eyes burning into his very soul. “Not long for this world. Any regrets?”

“I regret...that we didn’t do this sooner.” Jack uses what little strength he can muster, from some deep part of him, to reach up and cup Gabe’s cheek in his hand. “I always wanted to. I’m glad, if this is the end, I don’t die with that regret.”

He sees Gabe’s eyes open wide before his vision goes completely black and his hand falls back to his side. Jack’s aware of voices in the room, over the slowing thump of his heartbeat in his ears, and tries desperately to parse them out even as his body starts to shut down.

“You’re certain?”

“Yes. You permitted me one gift. I want him.”

.O.

Jack comes awake on a gasp, sitting upright, hands flying to his throat. There are no marks under his fingers, though he dances them all over the skin, and he throws back the covers to find he’s unharmed everywhere.

He’s actually re-dressed, though these clothes are not his. They’re black, the shirt bearing some sort of strange sigil in red on the front. The color only contrasts to the bone white of his skin, an unearthly color that has him raising his hands to his face like proximity will make them fade back to a human skin tone. Jack allows himself a long moment to try and parse what just happened before the creak of a door disrupts him. 

Gabriel steps inside the room and the events come rushing back at him like a charging bull. 

Gabe’s face. The fangs. The blood. The way Gabe had sucked him off like it was his last wish. 

The voices in the room.

“What did you do to me?”

Gabriel doesn’t speak as he makes his way over, ushering Jack off the bed with hands that brook no arguments. He guides him, one arm across his back when Jack stumbles on unsure feet, his body feeling loose like none of his limbs are connected properly. The mirror on the wall is filmed over, dirty, and Jack squints at the glass once they stop in front of it.

He doesn't see a thing in the stained glass until Gabe raises a hand and sweeps it across in one motion, clearing off a swathe for Jack to look into.

Jack doesn’t gasp when he sees his reflection but it’s a near thing. The man in the mirror is some sort of twisted clone of him. Skin the pale of the dead, rings of black around his eyes so thick and dark he raises a hand to wipe it away, as though it’s kohl. 

It doesn’t move. And as his mouth falls open in shock, Jack realizes with a shiver the odd feeling in his mouth comes from the fact that his canines are longer, sharper, tapered to a vicious looking point. 

“What did you do to me?” He asks again, desperate, one shaky hand gripping Gabe’s shirt as he stares at what he’s become.

“You had your regrets. I had my own.” Gabriel’s breath is hot across his throat, his ear, as the man nuzzles into his temple. “But one of us had the right friends to fix those regrets.”

“Am I...dead?”

“Yes. And no.” Gabe’s hand sneaks down, cupping over his cock, which nearly jumps to attention despite the fact that Jack’s last memory--only moments ago to him--is of coming. “Do you know of many dead men with functioning cocks?”

“You.” 

Gabriel laughs against his throat, scraping fangs there almost like a treat for a correct answer. 

“Immortality has it’s perks, Jack, I told you. No more regrets. We have all the time in the world now.”

“Am I...like you?” Jack should be worried. Should be concerned about what he’s become.

But he has a future now, where before there was only war and uncertainty. He has _Gabriel_ and it feels like he’s finally managed to find himself a home once more.

“In a way.”

“And the...Witch? She did this? Am I bound to her?”

Gabriel laughs and grips tighter, forcing Jack’s hips to buck into his hold, grind his cock against one sturdy palm. 

“No. You’re a gift, Jack. You don’t belong to her. You belong to _me_.”


End file.
